


Mama Said Knock You Out

by toucanpie



Category: Kingdom (TV 2014)
Genre: Canon-Typical Language & Slurs, Canon-Typical Violence, Drunk Sex, Dubious consent turning to consensual, Gun Kink, M/M, Power Dynamics, Rough Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:41:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23665549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toucanpie/pseuds/toucanpie
Summary: Ryan should know better than to wind Alvey up, but a few drinks down he can't help himself.
Relationships: Alvey Kulina/Ryan Wheeler
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	Mama Said Knock You Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sandrine Shaw (Sandrine)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandrine/gifts).



> Loosely set near the beginning of S2. Title from LL Cool J.

Ryan stumbles, taking the corner of the bathroom sink to his hip. It should sting but he can barely feel it thanks to the steady throb of alcohol in his veins keeping him warm and dumb. He's impressed he even managed to piss straight.

He was going to stop after one, but then something on the TV had flipped a switch in his brain. These earnest people - helping kids, researching for cancer, saving baby eagles - it made his life seem so fucking surreal. Probably didn't help that he'd fought the shittiest fight of his life and then popped for coke all in the same week.

Now Alvey was coming round to pick him up because he was way too drunk to drive to the gym and had made the mistake of picking up the phone when Alvey called.

"Nice one," he says to himself in the mirror. "Nice way to fuck up your life some more."

His reflection starts to sway and it's like watching himself on tape, like it's not really him. The mirror guy has a scab on his right eyebrow, has pupils that look way too fucking large. That guy thinks he gets to name himself, thinks he gets to wear a champion's belt. That guy put his dad in a wheelchair and scabs off his friend from jail and can't even make it to a gym on time.

He drops the other guy's gaze and turns on the tap so he can wash his hands. He knows in some corner of his mind that he should make more effort than that so that when Alvey comes he'll look like he's ready even if he's not, should put on a shirt at least. But he doesn't want to hit the gym, doesn't want to sweat till his eyes sting or skip till his lungs burn. He wants to lay down on the couch, drink until he can't remember his own name, and throw up until the crawling 'you're a piece of shit' feeling leaves his body.

\----

Loud rapping on the door is how he knows Alvey has made it.

He still has a can in his hand when he opens it wide, the bright sun making him wince.

"Jesus fuck, Ryan," Alvey says. "Would it kill you to be sober at midday?"

"Hey coach," Ryan says, biting back on a sudden urge to laugh. "Nice of you to drop by."

Alvey rolls his eyes and pushes his way inside. Ryan remembers, again, what a fucking bad idea it was to pick up the phone. He doesn't have the guys round, Alvey doesn't need to see where he eats and sleeps. It's like letting a wildcat into your house, it'll probably just rip open the couch and shit all over the floor. He tucks his shades in his pockets

"Is your prison buddy here?" Alvey says, looking around.

Ryan snorts. Like Alvey knows anything about Keith. "I don't know, is he?"

"Is that what this is? You two get drunk and jerk each other off every day now instead of coming in to work?"

Ryan laughs, then laughs even harder when he thinks about how he's actually spent the morning - talking to himself in the bathroom mirror and pointing drunkenly at the TV like an old man.

"That's funny? You think that's fucking funny?"

Ryan shakes his head, though Alvey can be pretty funny when he's angry. Acting like everyone lives just for him, like every one of Ryan's fuckups is some personal betrayal when half the time they aren't really even friends. It makes him want to give in to real laughter, to see how much Alvey can take before he snaps like a crazy mother goose. He can feel it bubbling through his body, a tickle that doesn't want to sit down or be good.

"No, coach. No, sir."

Alvey stares at him like he's from another planet. "What is this, fucking comedy hour?"

Ryan spreads his arms wide because there's nothing he can do. Nothing feels real, not Alvey, not Navy Street, not the fact that his job is to beat the shit out of people for money unless they get to him first.

"Why are you even here, Alvey? What do you think's going to happen? I'm gonna magically sober up and then I'll come down the gym, do some weights like a good little dog?"

"A good dog?" Now it's Alvey who's laughing. "You think you're a good dog?"

He steps closer and points one of his fingers up in Ryan's face. "You're like the neighbourhood stray, Wheeler, hopping around other people's houses on three legs, begging for scraps."

"Oh yeah?" Fuck him. "Well guess what that makes you, Alvey. The fat cat in the front yard, the one that doesn't know how to fight anymore."

Alvey laughs dry and nasty, the way Ryan remembers him from when they used to get blackout drunk together and do nasty stupid shit.

"You'd better watch your mouth, here, Ryan," Alvey says. "Cause without me you don't get paid, remember?"

Like Ryan needs the reminder.

"Fuck you," he says. "Get out of my house."

Alvey gives him an incredulous look, like he didn't get the message so Ryan goes for a shove, to illustrate what he's fucking saying. Only he loses his balance, catching the edge of Keith's fucking rug, and his hands just slide off Alvey's arm.

"Now who's the fat cat who can't fight, huh?" Alvey says.

He shoves Ryan backwards and Ryan stumbles, hitting the wall.

"Now who's the little bitch of the yard?" Alvey says, following him over.

"Still you," Ryan says. "Hey, does Lisa even still fuck you or is your tiny dick not long enough to make it with the bump?"

"Oh, you are fucking done," Alvey says. "You think I won't kick your ass just cause you're drunk?"

"I guess it must be really small. I'm sorry man, I didn't know. Don't they have procedures for that yet?"

Alvey gives him a real fucked-up smile, the type that shows his teeth.

"You wanna see my dick? You wanna see how fucking big it is?"

He reaches out and grabs Ryan's chin, squeezing it hard. Ryan slaps at his arm hard enough that Alvey flinches. It takes a sloppy jab to his other side to get him let go.

"Look at you, man," Alvey says, stepping backwards as Ryan tries to hit him again. "This is just fucking sad."

"Shut the fuck up," Ryan says and swings up just fast enough to get Alvey under the chin. 

He follows that up with a knee in the stomach and as Alvey staggers backwards he goes in for a choke-hold, trying to keep the world straight as he wraps his arms round Alvey's head.

Everything wavers as they grapple, Alvey pummelling at his side as his hands get sweaty and threaten to slip. It's like playing a trippy video game where nothing makes sense and all he can do is try and tap the same button over and over as fast as he can. Alvey shouts something and then shoves forward, his head slamming right into Ryan's stomach and he almost retches, his hold loosening.

Something hits the inside of his right leg hard and they both veer sideways as he struggles to stay upright. It fucking burns, like Alvey knew just what he was aiming for. Suddenly he's so angry, it's like something inside him breaks. He shifts and puts all his weight into throwing Alvey back, meaning to slam him to the floor. 

He gets as far as bringing his knee up but he's too slow and Alvey is already there, socking him in the jaw.

The world reels and he stumbles backwards, his hands barely up in front of him. His vision is kind of fucked and when he wet his lips he realises the cut on his eyebrow must be open and it's blood tripping down his face, making it hard to see.

He wipes his hand across his face and then turns his head to spit out what's got in his mouth.

When he turns back, Alvey's holding a gun in his face.

"What the fuck?"

"Get on your fucking knees," Alvey says, stepping closer and pressing the barrel to his forehead. "It's fucking loaded, so don't push me."

He almost laughs, only fucking Alvey would come to pick him up with a gun tucked in his waistband, the guy's so obsessed with being in control it's unreal.

"What the actual fuck?" he says again.

Alvey gives him a real shit-eating grin and turns the barrel, pushing the cold metal harder into Ryan's skin. Then he jabs Ryan in the knee, waits until it bends and then starts forcing him down.

"Come on, you wanted to know how big my dick is, right? Now you get to know."

Ryan starts standing back up with a laugh, but Alvey slaps him across the face with his other hand, so hard he sees stars. Ryan gapes, his head spinning and Alvey does it again, his whole world rocking as his cheek is slammed into the wall.

He feels himself settle into losing the fight and feels his knees hit the floor

"Fuck man," he says, tasting blood in his mouth again. Either Alvey's ring split his lip or Alvey slammed him so hard he bit his own tongue.

He slowly turns his head at the sound of a zip and finds Alvey undoing his pants. He pants with his head still sideways against the wall, unable to look away. Alvey draws his cock out, wrapping one hand around it and squeezing lightly. It smells like sex, probably because it isn't even soft, like Alvey's been getting off on their little discourse. 

"Nice," he says, because he's sucker for punishment and always have been. "How much do you normally have to pay for this part?"

Alvey doesn't reply, just moves the gun until it's pressing against Ryan's mouth. Then he steps forward so the head of his cock brushes Ryan's face too. 

Ryan turns his head as far as he can. "What the fuck, man?"

"C'mon, Ryan," Alvey says and Ryan sees his hand start to move as he jerks himself. "You said you wanted to see it."

Ryan closes his eyes, his busted lip and his leg starting to throb. It's the most fucked-up he's been outside the ring in a long time. But something about it seems kind of right, like every conversation, every argument they ever had was just leading up to one of them doing this to the other.

"Bring it, man," he says, choking on a sudden bubble of laughter. "You think I'm scared of your dick?"

The only thing he's scared of now is ending up like his dad.

"You fucking should be," Alvey says. He puts the gun back against Ryan's mouth and rubs it back and forth, like he wants Ryan to suck it. He's filling out now too, the head of his cock going darker as it firms up.

Ryan laughs, low and easy, staring at Alvey's favourite two possessions, both hard in his face. With a bit of efforts he shifts so he can look up at Alvey the way he's watched countless girls do it. "You want something from me, Alvey?"

There's some kind of power that's jumping between and all it makes him want to do is push Alvey harder. 

"Fuck," Alvey says, whistling through his teeth. "You learn some things inside I don't know about, Ryan?"

He edges even closer and this time when his cock presses against Ryan's cheek he feels it leave a damp smear.

Ryan laughs again, his blood running hot and dizzy. It's the taste of copper in his mouth, it makes him do things, act all crazy.

"Stop pussying about, man," he says. He's not gonna offer or make the first move, if Alvey wants it he can fucking ask for it himself.

Alvey pauses, watching him, and then he moves the gun just enough that he can rub his cockhead over Ryan's lips, then the rest of his face.

"Not so fucking small now, is it?"

Ryan looks up at him and grins. With Alvey's gaze on him, he wets his lips deliberately and then ignoring Alvey's cock, leans forward and opens his mouth around the barrel of the gun.

He hears Alvey breath out but he doesn't look up as he takes it into his mouth and sucks it. He doesn't stop until he can feel the back of his throat start to seize, like he's going to cough. Then he draws back, letting it slide out, all shiny with his spit.

For a moment, neither of them move. Then Alvey moves the gun out the way and slowly lines his cock up with Ryan's mouth.

"You want this," he asks, as he starts pushing it inside. "You want to fucking suck my cock while I hold a gun to your head?"

Why the fuck not, Ryan thinks. He's done worse. 

It's not an easy fit because Alvey's not as smooth as the gun, but he likes the struggle of it, the way he tastes salt on his tongue. Alvey groans as he gets halfway in and Ryan feels something hot inside him grow, knowing he's getting Alvey to do something he'll never admit to afterwards.

He moves his tongue up as far as he can, trying to make more room, and Alvey slides a little deeper, filling Ryan's mouth up so he can barely breathe.

Alvey moans and his hips twitch, the gun wavering against Ryan's cheek as Alvey's concentration dips. Ryan pulls air through his nose and then holds still, looking up. He can barely see Alvey's face but he'd put money on it not looking so smug anymore.

"Fucking suck it," Alvey says, getting back in control of himself and pressing the gun into Ryan's skin.

Ryan doesn't move an inch, just looks straight up.

"Fuck you," Alvey says, and then he lets go of his cock to put a hand behind Ryan's head. Holding Ryan still, he pulls out his cock so the tip is resting on Ryan's bottom lip and then he slowly pushes it all the way back in.

Ryan shudders at the feel of it, his own body starting to get with the programme. There's something out of control and crazy about letting Alvey thrust in and out of his mouth. He feels stretched open and giddy, his body already craving the mindlessness that sex brings him.

Alvey pushes in harder and Ryan's head thumps back against the wall, that thud softened by Alvey's hand but still going straight to his cock. It's like being caught up in a tornado, being pulled any which way by something that just wants to fuck him up.

Alvey's fingers tighten on his head and then they urge him forward. He lets himself go loose and goes with it, meeting Alvey thrusts as they get faster. Hot spikes prickle all over his skin as his air starts to run out, Alvey's cock taking up all the space in his mouth, pushing far enough back that he almost chokes and can't breathe through his nose any more.

"Fuck," Alvey chants, pumping faster and faster. Ryan presses a heel into his own crotch with one hand and fumbles for balance against Alvey with the other.

"Hold fucking still," Alvey says, his grip on Ryan's head getting tighter. His movement's getting jerky and Ryan's smart enough to know that means he's getting near to a mouthful of come. He rubs at himself through his shorts and arches, letting Alvey use him even as he starts to feel dizzy from the lack of air.

Alvey starts to pump forward so fast Ryan can't even think, then suddenly he's groaning and liquid's flooding Ryan's mouth

"Fuck," Alvey says again, letting go of Ryan's head to punch the wall. His cock slides out of Ryan's mouth, spit and come trickling out after it.

Ryan lets his head tip down and sucks in long breaths, applying rocking pressure to his dick through his shorts. It's good, the pleasure and pain all mixed up and swimming through him like a drug. He doesn't even need to come, just to let the waves of it crash over him. 

He spits out a mouthful of Alvey's come onto the floor, and then swallows anything left, running his tongue over his lips to check for more cuts. There's none so the numb feeling is just from them being used, stretched open by Alvey's dick.

When he looks up, Alvey's just stood there, staring at him. He looks like he just discovered his prom date's a hooker and doesn't know what to do about it.

"Welcome to the House of Wheeler," Ryan says, licking his bottom lip. "I hope you enjoyed your ride."

"You're fucking insane," Alvey says. Which is funny because he's the one standing there still holding a gun with his softening dick hanging out his pants.

"That's why you like me."

"Fuck me," Alvey says again, looking up at the ceiling.

Ryan laughs, the surrealness of the situation finally getting the better of him. He runs a hand over his scalp where he can still feel the indents of Alvey's fingers pressing in and holding him still.

"Well, are you gonna go take a shower like a polite house-guest or are you just gonna stare at me at all day?"

Alvey keeps starting. Ryan flips him the bird because he can. Then he licks his right palm and slides it inside his shorts. He could probably sit there and jack himself off for a full half hour before he's sober enough to actually shoot.

He gets in three lazy strokes before Alvey hightails it to the bathroom like the pussy he is.

\---

By the time Alvey's done in the shower, Ryan's moved himself to the couch and cracked open another beer.

He can tell from Alvey's face that room probably smells like sex, but he doesn't give a fuck. Alvey's all dressed up again, hair slicked back all neat like nothing ever happened. It makes Ryan want to laugh at how fucking fragile Alvey's life is beneath the tidy surfaces, all those crazy lies he must tells himself.

"Give my love to the guys," he says raising his beer in salute.

"Fuck you."

"Maybe next time, huh?" Ryan says, just to see what he gets back.

"Shut up," Alvey snaps. "Tell anybody about this and I'll fucking kill you."

Ryan snorts. "Yeah, yeah."

"I mean it," Alvey says. "You'll never fucking set foot in a gym again, anywhere, if anyone finds out."

"Sure," Ryan says easily. Who was he going to tell anyway? Lisa? Like it would do him any good. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out, man."

\---


End file.
